Cold
by Crimson Cupcake
Summary: For the first time in the vast deserts of Hueco Mundo, the wind was blowing. And it was cold. And Ulquiorra did not like the cold. Instead, he tracks it to the source of the commotion - Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Oneshot. GrimmUlqui.


**A/N: Yay! Finally, a Bleach story! xDD Anyway, this originally started out as a random piece of plotless thing because I was bored. Seriously. And then...well, I guess I can't write any oneshots that don't have pairings in them. Somehow, it just doesn't work. I feel like I've wasted something xDD Of course I haven't, but I'm weird like that. Oh, yeah, also, I'll be using their official names in this one. So it'd be Ulquiorra Cifer and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I know some people don't like it, but...oh well! So. Enjoy, I guess?**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach, and never will, sadly. But at least I have stickers ^^ **

**Warning: Grimmjow. Grimmjow. GRIMMJOW. Okay okay, you got it. Also, yaoi. GrimmUlqui. This also has only been proofread slightly, so feel free to point out any mistakes. Crappy writing? Just read it.**

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He didn't like the cold.

Nor did he like the wind, whistling its ghastly tones across the dead, dried tips of giant trees. It was surprising. The desolate plane of Hueco Mundo, ever filled with its rising and falling sand dunes, was moving. The neglected trees were swaying in motion with the wind, and strands of his jet black hair were blowing across his face. His tail coat billowed up, and then down, and back up again, and stayed there.

Ulquiorra shifted in his position high up on the dome of Las Noches. Despite the fact that his hands were in his pockets, his skin was ice cold, and he felt the freezing wind that roughly threw itself at everything in its path. It was odd, almost ironic. Apart from it, he could feel nothing, but Ulquiorra Cifer did not like the cold. He was not used to it. It did not belong.

He closed his eyes as a wave of sand rushed onto him, staining his pearly white uniform. He knew that there was something wrong. There was never any wind in Hueco Mundo. It was always calm, desolate and unchanged.

Until now.

His permanent frown deepened. In the distance, he could sense _reiatsu_. It was pulsing and wild and somehow familiar. But it was too far away, he couldn't make it out. He used _sonido _to settle down from his vantage position onto the soft sand beneath, bating away another wash of sand. It was his duty to check on hostilities in the Bone World.

Ulquiorra raised a foot and calmly stepped forward. His foot never reached the ground. He had disappeared in a flash of colour. Before there had been white, and black, and a trace of green. Then there was nothing – only a small figure on the horizon.

He continued, using _sonido_ every so often to travel a few kilometres. Then he would pause and activate his _pesquita _to track down the hostile _reiatsu_, just in case the other had moved from their position_._ Each time, there was the same result – he had not.

But then Ulquiorra stopped.

He was close enough to sense the intruding _reiatsu_. And he knew that he was right. It had been familiar for a reason. Untameable and ferocious; it belonged to Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra wanted to turn around and head back to Las Noches. There, at least, he would not have to endure the howling wind. But the castle was now fairly smaller than it had been before, and – he hated to admit it – he was curious about what Grimmjow was up to. If his _reiatsu_ could cause a sandstorm in Hueco Mundo, and cause the cold wind which was constantly blowing, it was very powerful indeed.

He made up his mind and kept going.

Before long, he stopped again. The familiar figure of Grimmjow was visible some kilometres ahead. Ulquiorra stayed where he was, careful to keep his _reiatsu_ at a bare minimum. It was little wonder that the Sexta Espada hadn't noticed him. After all, surrounded by a cloud of his own _reiatsu_ pushed to the minimum, and overconfident that nobody was close by, it was almost impossible for him to notice.

Ulquiorra watched from his position, not knowing whether to be disappointed or slightly amused by this new training regime that Grimmjow had taken upon himself. He looked as if he was in his release. He sprang into the air lithely, and flipped, throwing at least three _cero_s at the ground before disappearing and reappearing a few metres away. Dust flew up, hiding the Sixth from Ulquiorra's view.

So, Ulquiorra thought with mild satisfaction, he had guessed right. It _was_ Grimmjow who was the source of this obtrusive wind. He had seen enough of whatever the Sexta was doing. It was time to end it. Anything out of the ordinary in Hueco Mundo was bad news.

Ulquiorra instantly disappeared, reappearing in the air behind Grimmjow. The teal-haired man's eyes widened momentarily in surprise as Ulquiorra grabbed his wrist. His grip was harder than iron. The next second, Grimmjow felt himself being tossed unceremoniously towards the ground. He was able to land on his feet, and the next moment had sheathed his _Zanpakuto_, back in his sealed form.

"Oi! Ulquiorra!" he growled, not at all pleased at being interrupted. He eyed the floating Cuatro disdainfully, trying to regain his dignity. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Ulquiorra's eyes flickered towards the horizon. Sure enough, the wind had stopped and the sand had also ceased blowing. He was just the smallest bit impressed. "I am merely following orders," he said simply. It was the truth, in a roundabout way. Aizen had sent him to eliminate all possible threats in the area. Surely this was similar to a threat?

"Following orders!" Grimmjow snorted derisively. "Follow your fucking orders, Ulquiorra. I'm not doing anything wrong."

"As a matter of fact, you are," the other replied calmly, settling an unwavering gaze onto him.

Grimmjow glared back with as much killing intent as he could muster. "Shut the fuck up. Aren't I allowed to train in this goddamn desert?" he snarled.

Ulquiorra hardly considered this training. It went more along the lines of 'use-up-all-the-_reiatsu_-you-can-and-see-how-long-you-can-last'. "Your so-called training," he deadpanned, "is disturbing Hueco Mundo. It is disturbing Aizen-sama, and therefore must be terminated."

"Screw Aizen," Grimmjow retorted. "Aizen this and Aizen that, you're a nice little pet, aren't you, Ulquiorra?" He spat the sentence out.

"I am not an animal."

Grimmjow snorted again, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Fuck no. But you're hella close to one. And I'd stay away from me, if I were you," he added haughtily.

He turned to walk away, but instead found his way blocked by the smaller figure. Despite being able to stare down, Grimmjow still found himself at a disadvantage. That damn Espada was hella _strong_ for his stature. "What the hell?" he exclaimed. Ulquiorra was much too close, and Grimmjow did _not_ appreciate getting his personal space invaded.

There was a new level of coldness in which Ulquiorra spoke. "You are not me," he hissed, "and therefore you are not allowed to make choices for me. Aizen-sama demands that you stop this ridiculous wind, trash."

Trash! The word infuriated Grimmjow beyond reason. He was not trash, he refused to be trash. This was why he was training. To get stronger. To not be trash. If only there was a way to get rid of that air of satisfaction which clung to the Cuatro. Then they would be even. No. Then Grimmjow would be superior. An idea crept into the back of his mind and he grinned.

"Fuck you, Ulquiorra."

Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips onto the other's.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened in evident surprise and alarm. He instinctively made to pull back, but Grimmjow's arms has locked around him. Shock had made him lose his wits and power. He was helpless.

It felt like an eternity, but at last Grimmjow pulled free. There was a giant grin on his face. Ulquiorra stumbled back a few feet, glaring furiously. He was all too conscious of warmth seeping into his face. "What was that for?" he demanded, almost impulsively rubbing his mouth. Yes, he knew was it was called. It started with K and ended with SS, but he didn't want to say it.

"Heh, for wearing that freaking arrogant look all the time, that's what," Grimmjow smirked. And then he looked around.

"Shit, it's cold out here."

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**A/N: Well?** **How was it? I hope I nailed their characters, although Grimmjow...meh, whatever. And as you can probably tell, I suck at writing scenes like the above xD So kill me. Also, I really enjoyed writing the interaction between Ulquiorra and Grimmjow...it was fun! I felt that it could go on all day if I wanted it to. Ah, poor Aizen. He has to listen to this bickering at his meetings xDD Well, there you go, BananaNutCrunch! I wrote a Bleach fanfic! Woooooh! 8D**

**Now review. Point out some mistakes. Tell me where the grammar could be better. Tell me if I misspelt Grimmjow's name (that'd be terrible)  
**

**Review.  
**

**You know you want to.**

**Please? I'll give you a cookie!**

**~C.C.  
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